Hooked on Tonics
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"It's better to Lose Drunk than Win Sober"
Female
31 years old
NEW ORLEANS, Louisiana
United States
Last Login:7/28/2008
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http://www.myspace.com/tonicskickball |
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Hooked on Tonics's Interests
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| General | KICKBALL!!!!!!
http://www.kocckickball.com/
Ruling It and DRINKING, of course!
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Hooked on Tonics's Details
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| Status: | Single | | Here for: | Friends | | Body type: | 0' 0" / Athletic | | Zodiac Sign: | Gemini | | Occupation: | Pimp |
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Hooked on Tonics is in your extended network
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Hooked on Tonics's Blurbs |
About me:
The boys and girls of Hooked on Tonics grew up on the near Northeast of Chicago, also sometimes known as Lake Michigan. They blossomed knee-deep in “bum wines” and were suffused with the sour maltiness of late nights purged on dark city barges, the bloated effusions of dead rats, and the truly unforgivable aroma of Nash Kato.
Before they developed their current lineup, an early member of their team was Wesley “Thunderleg” Willis, whose tragic collision with a rock slung by Liz Phair ended his kickball career prematurely. (Willis’s later, habitual greeting -- a headbutt followed by his gravelly intonation of the word, “rawk” -- is as poignant to his former teammates as it is annoying.) After conspiring (but failing) to kill Nash Kato while the great man bought oranges from a street vendor, the team opted to flee the city ahead of Kato’s army of vodka-swilling, Cadillac-driving, Chicago gangsters.
They found refuge at Camp Northstar. Under the tutelage of Tripper Harrison and inspired by a young man known only as Spaz, the team finally got their groove back in a little-known game against Camp Mohawk. After their great victory and a couple cases of Schlitz (fuckin-A!), each member of the team lost their virginity, either to Tripper or to Roxanne, the camp director, no one was sure who was whom in the chaotic, grappling, glorious dark of the cabin. (Someone kept repeating, “You’ll be a woman soon,” but those are words best not pondered or remembered.)
Their virginity was not the only thing lost that summer. They also lost their former team motto in favor of a new one suggested by Tripper in a speech he gave just before being executed at dawn by Poi Dog Pondering:
“And even if we win, if we win, hah! Even if we play so far above our heads that our noses bleed for a week to ten days; even if God in Heaven above points his hand at our side of the field; even if every man woman and child joined hands together and prayed for us to win, it just wouldn't matter because all the really good looking girls would still go out with the guys from Mohawk because they've got all the money! It just doesn't matter if we win or if we lose. It just doesn’t matter!”
Fleeing again down the long and lonesome road, ahead of the marauding horde of Chicago gangsters with the smooth sound and flow, the team concluded that, in fact, “It Just Doesn’t Matter” was a far more inspirational motto than “We Suck.” “It Just Doesn’t Matter” is now the official motto of Hooked on Tonics. “We Suck” is now the official motto of your mommas.
By the late 1980s, the team had begun to disintegrate. The girls got hooked up with the casino business in Vegas, but made the mistake of talking rudely to a man named Moe Greene. Wesley Willis had him whacked, thank God, before Moe could tell them yet again that he was Moe Greene, Moe Greene, Moe Greene, and blah, blah, blah. A very annoying man, that Moe Greene. Fuck Moe Greene. May he sleep with the fishes.
The boys joined hair bands and experimented with various brands of gin and absinthe (mmmmm yeah, chere.) Later ditching the hair-band ethos, they shaved their heads and began playing the Baltimore death metal saloons as Chef Motherfucker, reaching their apex and nadir all at once during a show at Hammerjacks, at which seven lost Catholic school girls were frightened to death by their remarkable ugliness and bad taste. Two months later an episode of “Homicide” earned the boys a brief bid in Maryland’s state prison in Baltimore, where they were known for their ability to make liquor out of fruit cocktail and shoe polish, as well as their a cappella talents.
In the early 1990s, the East Coast and West Coast contingents, the boys and the girls, reunited and decided to take their talents to New Orleans. They were drawn by the city’s low crime rate, excellent schools, modernist aesthetic, work ethic, and quick access to the ski slopes. Still nearly as interested in gin as they were in kickball, they were also eager to plug into the city’s growing community of Gin Drinkers™ inspired by Star Trek, professional wrestling, and the perfection of Cheez Whiz excreted onto a saltine.
The derelicts of Hooked on Tonics still live in New Orleans, where they love gin, shagging, and ruling your ass on the ballfield. Nash Kato is still a scary asshole whom we still find oddly attractive and repellent at the same time. Whatever. It Just Doesn’t Matter, baby. And yo momma sucks.
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Who I'd like to meet:
The Most Kick Ass Woman in New Orleans:
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| Hooked on Tonics's Friend Space (Top 32) |
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Hooked on Tonics has 42 friends.
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